Coffee's for Cuties
by realrosie357
Summary: Castiel is fairly well-adjusted. Sure, he's never quite fit in around most people, and he prefers to experience relationships second-hand through books, but that had never been enough get in the way of his day-to-day life or his job at his brother's coffee shop. That was, until Dean Winchester walked in the doors, and turned him into a Cas-shaped lump of jell-o.
1. Chapter 1

The coffee shop smelled like beans and sugar and old books, and though Castiel would never admit it, it was his favorite smell in the world. As much as he would complain to Gabriel about picking up yet another shift, cutting deeply into what would have been his social life, had he possessed one, there really weren't many other places where he would prefer to be on any given afternoon. The atmosphere in the cozy shop calmed him, the repetitive motions of the espresso machine that took him so long to learn how to use now second nature, mindless. The regulars would walk in and order their usual, he would smile and call them by their name without having to ask, and he could tell that it made them feel good to know that he remembered them. The look on a customer's face when he gave them a perfectly-made coffee… It was nice, knowing that he could do some small thing right.

It was a slow day, and Castiel was engaging in his favorite working pastime: people watching. He was subtle about it, of course. He knew that people tended to not like being stared at, but he couldn't help that he just found humans fascinating. He leaned forward on the counter, bracing himself with his elbows against the cool stone surface. There was a couple sitting at a window table, chatting animatedly as they sipped their lattes and the girl nibbled on a scone. Suddenly she burst out into peals of laughter at something that the boy had said, giggles shaking her shoulders and a light blush shining on her cheeks. When she regained her composure, she shook her head, and leant forwards to give the boy a chaste peck on the lips, and now it was his turn to blush. Castiel sighed lightly and looked away. He had no strong urge for a romantic partner at the moment, but seeing happy couples on coffee dates nearly every day did make him wonder what he was missing out on.

He had been in a relationship before, years ago, but he didn't think it really counted. Hannah, a girl from his high school, a friend of his. They had been working together on a school project. One day, out of nowhere, she leaned over the poster they had been decorating and kissed him. He had had an awareness that she might have harbored affections for him, but had tried to keep their focus on the project in hopes that either he would eventually develop feelings back, or, preferably, she would lose interest. Neither of those hopes came true. He had sat, completely still, as she kissed him, counting the seconds it took for her to pull away. One, two, three, four, five… It took ten seconds for her to take her mouth off his. She had blushed and smiled, eyes bright, somehow not noticing that he hadn't reciprocated her actions. He couldn't bring himself to tell her, hadn't known what to do, except to smile back. She had taken it as a sign that he also wanted to pursue a more-than-friends relationship, and before he knew it, he had a girlfriend. It lasted a month, ending one day, when the guilt of allowing her to think that he liked her became too much for him. He had apologized profusely, and she had taken it well, considering the circumstances. Still, the project only received a B, and their friendship was irreparably damaged.

He was aware that it was sad, but he didn't much mind that he hadn't had a relationship yet. So what if he was a college graduate who had never been (voluntarily) kissed? He was content to watch other people live their lives, buzzing to and fro like the bees he kept in his backyard. He didn't care about his own dull life as long as he could see interesting ones, even looking from the outside in. Why else would he have become a literature major? Reading about adventures and romances was just as good as firsthand experience, and it required much less emotional vulnerability.

The bell rang and Cas looked up from his pathetic reverie. He brought his customer service smile to his face just as his eyes fell upon the man who had just passed through the door. He felt the expression fade as he took in the features approaching him, replaced with something that he couldn't identify, but was sure made him look like a lovestruck sixth-grader. His eyes followed the face as the man made his way from the door to the counter, and those seconds felt much longer.

He was gorgeous.

In Castiel's mind, a narration began against his will, dictating in prose just how attractive this man was. He looked as if he had just stepped out of a 16th-century sonnet. Golden skin, dusted with freckles, bottle-green eyes so vibrant they practically shone as they swept the shop for the counter. Finding it, his full lips curved into a warm, easy smile that revealed perfect, pearly teeth. He moved with a confidence and swagger that was impossible to learn; you have to be born with it. 'Stunning,' Castiel thought to himself, 'he's stunning.'

He didn't have time, however, to run through the mile-long list of words that he could have called the man, running from modern to Shakespearean. He could have gone through a thesaurus' worth of synonyms for beauty, but he realized, with a jolt of embarrassment, that the man was almost to the counter, and that now he had to talk to him. He scrambled to remember what he said to customers when they came to the counter, and was sure that he had the exact expression of a deer caught in a car's headlights when the man stopped across the counter from him and he finally remembered the basic sentence that he had spoken fifty times that day alone:

"Hello, what can I get for you?"

He smiled, but his voice sounded strained to his ears, and he mentally brought his hand to his face in self-exasperation, even as his real hands stayed motionless on the stone. He needed to get a grip. Cute guys had come into the shop before, and he'd hardly blinked an eye, let alone fallen over himself like a middle-schooler with a crush.

"Americano, please," The man responded, not seemingly having noticed that his barista was in the process of ceasing to be right before his eyes, and smiled again, and now his eyes were close and his voice was just as gorgeous as his face and-

Castiel cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, it was closer to its normal deep tone, though not quite there. "Coming right up. Is that all?" His brain function had returned, at least partially, and he could make it through this exchange as long as the man just ordered his coffee, took it to go, and swaggered out of his life immediately, never to return.

"Actually, now you mention it…" he drawled as his (enchanting) eyes swept again across the menu above Castiel's head, "Are the pies here any good?" As he asked, his (gorgeous) eyes lit up slightly, his entire expression seeming to perk up. Castiel gulped. It was the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life.

"Yes, actually. The owner makes them fresh in-house, and I've received quite good reviews. Personally, I think they're fantastic."

"Alright, then, I'll take your word for it. Serve me up a slice of the apple with that Americano and I'll be good to go."

"Great," Castiel nodded and began to turn around to prepare the order when he realized he had forgotten to ask, "and, uh, what name should I put the order under?" he sincerely hoped that the heat he could feel rushing to his face wasn't visible. The man smirked slightly, and Castiel feared for the worst, but the expression looked so innate on his face that he thought it might just be its natural state.

"Dean," he replied, and even though he'd known this 'Dean' for all of 30 seconds, the name seemed to Castiel as if it fit perfectly.

"Right." Castiel ducked his head, scribbling the newly-discovered name onto the cup in his hand and turning his back to face the coffee machine. He felt, more than saw or heard, Dean move away to wait, and as the giddy warmth that had filled him started to recede with distance, Castiel cringed at himself. Since when did he fanboy over some dude with a nice face and a charming drawl? A thousand customers had come and gone, some of them just as handsome, without eliciting so much as a tenth of the response that this 'Dean' had. He shook his head quickly and tried to shake it off, resolving that he would have time to unpack his current embarrassment and sink into the earth to his heart's content later, once he was safe at home. For now, he had work to attend to, and a gorgeous man to try not to humiliate himself in front of. His fingers automatically pressed the relevant buttons on the machine, and while it whirred and worked, he grabbed a hearty slice of the still-warm apple pie that his brother had brought out only a few minutes ago. When the last drop of water had fallen, he brought both to the counter, making a concerted effort to keep his breath steady when he was once again within direct eyesight of Dean.

"Here you go, one Americano and one slice of apple pie. That comes to six dollars." Castiel had to physically restrain himself from offering it up on the house as he glanced up to take the offered money, flashing his eyes lightning-fast in hopes that they wouldn't have time to catch.

"Thanks," Dean smiled, and Castiel wasn't sure if it was directed more at him or the pie, but it made his heart flutter nonetheless.

"No problem. Have a nice day." Castiel forced himself to make eye contact for just a second as he wished the man goodbye.

"Yeah, you, too," the lazy smile was now fully focused on Cas, and it was all he could do to nod politely and sharply turn himself to face away so that he could catch his breath without those verdant retinas boring into him. As he heard the easy gait begin to recede, he let out a sigh and leaned forward, tapping his forehead against the cool metal of the coffee machine and resting it there. He took a second to go over the encounter in his mind, hoping that he hadn't done what he usually does when talking to people he found attractive, and made some grievous social error without ever noticing that anything was out of the ordinary. Unable to find any such misstep, Castiel contented himself in the knowledge that he had made it through the encounter without humiliating himself, and that now, 'Dean' was gone, and he could now return to his work day in peace. He was about to turn back to the counter to wait for the next guest, when a realization zapped through his mind and he froze:

Dean hadn't gotten his order to go.


	2. Chapter 2

Cas turned slowly to face the rest of the shop, and was tempted to whip back around when his fears were confirmed: there he was, lounging at the window seat right next to the couple that Cas had been watching earlier, and right in Castiel's field of view. Absolutely unavoidable.

 _Shit_.

He couldn't quite bring himself to look away, though, now that he was at a semi-safe distance and the man seemed absorbed in his coffee. The way that the sunlight from the window illuminated the edges of his profile and landed on his hair and eyelashes made him look almost angelic.

Right at that moment, the man's head lifted and he saw Cas looking at him, and what felt like a thousands volts of electricity ran sharply down Cas's spine, knowing that he had been caught. His face was definitely flushing, but all he could do was stand frozen like a deer in headlights. Green eyes found his own, and stayed, searching, crinkling at the corners from what they found there.

After approximately 30 seconds of paralysis, Cas forced his head to turn away. He stared resolutely at the entrance, pointedly ignoring the fact that Dean was still in his peripheral vision, and praying silently for someone, anyone, to come through the door and give him something to do other than nervously sweat.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed determined not to give him a break, and almost 15 minutes passed in that same manner, until Cas saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, alerting him to the fact that the man was gathering his things and leaving. Cas did his best not to track the movement across the room, to pretend this man was just like any other customer. On his way out the door, he paused, looking over his shoulder, and called back to Cas: "Thanks, man. Have a good one," giving a casual wave of his hand.

Cas gave a very uncasual, unnatural wave in response, and heard his practiced response more than consciously producing it: "Thanks, you too. Come back soon!"

It was the same thing he said to every customer on their way out the door, but in this case it sounded wrong to his ears. It was too quiet, too earnest, and suddenly the friendly and offhand request for a repeat visit seemed much too revealing, too true to his own desires. He tried not to betray this in his face, but the crinkle in the other man's eyes only deepened, and he turned back around as he replied.

"I might just."

Cas could've sworn he could hear a smile in the tone of the reply, but the man didn't turn back around to confirm that, and all Cas could do was try determinedly (not completely successfully) not to stare at the man's (very well-shaped) backside as he walked out of the door, the bell ringing again and snapping Cas out of the trance he had fallen into. He blinked and straightened, brushing the sleeves of his shirt and pulling his apron straight, attempting to regain his composure, and after a couple of seconds he had convinced himself that he had completely recovered. Back to normal Cas. Then, though, the bell rang again, and his head whipped, seemingly by its own volition, to the door, to see if Dean had come back. His half-formed hopes were unfounded; the bell had signaled only the approach of a regular customer, a woman with dark brown hair whose countenance sparked nothing in Cas, like every other customer until that day.

He pushed his disappointment aside as the dark-haired woman who had just arrived walked to the counter, slipping back into his professional smile and playing out the simple interaction like nothing had happened. He resolved to put the gorgeous man out of his mind, but still, as he turned to make the woman's espresso, he found himself smiling to himself. The feeling in his chest, the tightness, buzzing, floating sensation in his heart that this meeting had left behind, was both completely alien and unbelievably familiar. It was the sensation he had read so many times in books, had seen a hundred authors attempt to convey in a thousand different ways. Now, he understood. None of them had even come close to the real thing.

' _Dean_ ', He mused to himself as he waved the woman goodbye and returned his head to its perch on his hands, elbows braced once again against the cool stone of the counter. _Hmm. It's something new, at least. Maybe now I'll finally understand what some of those sonnets were talking about._


	3. Chapter 3

By the time his shift ended, Castiel was more than ready to go home. The shop closed at 6:30, and he found himself for the last half-hour focusing more on the ornate clock on the wall than on his barista duties. He was sure he had misspelled half of the names he had written on cups, and was embarrassed to find that he couldn't recall the names of multiple regulars whom he usually needed no effort to greet by name. He was tired, having slept less than an ideal amount the previous night and worked since 5 that morning, but that was hardly out of the ordinary. No, his state of distraction was certainly due to the gorgeous man who had walked through the door around noon and turned everything Castiel had ever known about his own heart inside out. He had always thought he was impenetrable, insusceptible to the silliness of crushes and gawking at strangers in cafes, no matter how poetically lit. Sure, he had felt attraction, but he had never felt this sense of pulling, this force as strong as gravity, dragging his eyes or his mind over and over again to a set of emerald eyes, heroic jawline, a shapely…

Castiel pulled himself forcefully out of his reverie before he could get carried away, cringing at his mind's adolescent antics. This was completely out of character for him. Even during the notoriously hormonal period of puberty, he had never developed an intense crush, leading to Gabriel's second-favorite nickname for him: "Super Virgin". Castiel rolled his eyes as he remembered it, resolving not to pick up another shift before gaining a formal apology for that one. After all, with the leeway Gabriel gave his baristas for time off, it seemed like the coffee shop was eternally short staffed, so Gabriel definitely needed Castiel more than Castiel needed him. Sure, Castiel had many thousands of dollars of grad school debt and a mostly-useless degree, but he also had his pride, damn it.

As he bustled around the shop attempting to complete his closing duties as quickly as possible, he was almost ready to leave when Castiel's eyes fell upon a book of poetry that a patron had left on the windowsill. He sighed, irritated at one more chore standing between him and the copy of David Copperfield he had waiting for him at his apartment. When he picked it up to reshelve it ads as the title, however, he paused. "The 100 Best Love Poems of All Time". He held it in his hand, considering. He had never really felt able to appreciate the entirety of love poems, as he had never felt much of what they had described. He enjoyed sonnets, especially those of Shakespeare, for their gentle lyricism and beautiful descriptions, but he had always felt somehow unqualified to read them. The units of his poetry classes that had dealt specifically with that subject had been more or less the only ones where he had stayed noticeably quiet, as opposed to the rest of the time, when he couldn't bring himself to stop talking. When the subject turned to the affairs of the heart, however, he could never quite connect in the same way as his classmates could.

Now, though, he might be able to get something out of these.

He tucked the book under his arm and carried it with him as he left, having completed his tasks. He considered for a moment that he shouldn't steal a book from his brother's shop, but shrugged it off after a second. What was Gabriel going to do, sue his own brother for book theft? Besides, he definitely owed Castiel more than the worth of this book, and he had proof for use in court. No, the only consequences that he could face for this infraction would be the teasing he would be subjected to if his older brother found out that Castiel had stolen a book on romance, of all things. Castiel winced in advance at the jokes he could already hear. He loved his brother, but he wished Gabriel would leave him alone in the romance department. One thing was for sure, Gabriel could not know about the beautiful stranger he had met earlier, or the response he had provoked in Castiel. He knew beyond a doubt that he would never hear the end of it. Having older brothers was the worst sometimes.

He slipped the book into his bag as he left the shop, locking the front door behind him. He had miraculously found a parking spot less than five minutes' walk away, and it was a miracle in this town, so he was back to his apartment within 15 minutes. As he locked the door behind him and flicked on the light, he rolled his eyes at the sight of his roommate, Meg, asleep on the sofa, a beer bottle on the floor where it had apparently fallen out of her hand.

"Sleep in a bed, Meg!" He dropped his bag next to the couch and nudged his roommate until she began to wake, groaning and waving faintly in a weak attempt to get him to leave her be. "Meg, it is 7:17 in the evening, you are either waking up or sleeping in your own bed."

"And why should I, Angel?" She mumbled into the couch cushion.

"Would you be more convinced if I told you my concern for your health and well-being, or if I told you that I was planning to catch up on my Netflix and you're lying in the way of that?"

"Definitely the Netflix one." She snarked while not moving.

Castiel sighed heavily, perhaps with a hint of melodrama, although he would deny it were he asked. "Can you at least move over and give me some room? This is in fact my apartment, as well as yours." Meg responded with a sigh with an exponentially more melodramatic sigh, but shifted her torso onto the arm of the couch and curled her legs so that Castiel had room to sit, even if it was the absolute minimum amount of room required for him to fit. He decided not to push it, though, and instead settled onto the well-worn cushion, turning the television on even as he reached into his bag to pull out his ill-gotten literature. Opening the cover as he pressed play on an episode of the Great British Baking show that he had already watched, Castiel hoped that Meg would still be out of it enough that she wouldn't think to look at what he was reading, or at least wouldn't bother to comment on it. However, his luck hardly ever turned out that well, and as soon as he had found the table of contents, he saw her crane her head to see what he was holding, snorting as she read the cover.

"Love poems? What's up with that, Super Virgin?"

"I hate that you know my brother."

"And I love that you hate it. Seriously, though, why? From that sticker on the side, it looks like you stole it from Gabe's shop, too. Who is this romantic outlaw I see before me?"

Castiel shut the book with a snap, staring pointedly at the screen and ignoring the question, choosing instead to focus on the movements of the baker on screen, as she struggled to keep her confectionary creation upright. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Meg raise an eyebrow, but for once she kept her mouth shut, and turned her eyes to the television as well, shifting her legs so that they laid across his lap.

The technical challenge hadn't even been judged before Meg's eyes had once again drifted shut. Cas smiled fondly and reached up for the blanket they kept on top of the couch, draping it lightly over his friend, before slowly, carefully, so as not to wake her, he reached back to the floor and picked up the book again. He turned to the table of contents, scanning through the titles until he found one that peaked his interest. He flipped to the page listed, and began to read, the words flowing through his mind, filling it with emotion and melody, and with the image of a beautiful stranger. Eventually, he drifted off as well, into light, easy dreams, floating through soft clouds and dark coffee and bright green eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

The morning came, and with the return of the sun, so returned Castiel's common sense. He woke with the book of poems still on his chest, slightly the worse for wear, with rumpled edges where his arms had fallen across it. He might even have thought that he had been hugging it while he slept, if he could bring himself to give up enough of his pride to consider the possibility. Thankfully, Meg slept late and heavy, and was still out cold, legs cutting off his circulation where they draped across his. He moved the book back onto the coffee table and cautiously untangled himself from the mess of limbs they had become.

Meg probably wouldn't wake up for another few hours, Cas figured, as he replaced the blanket over her from where it had fallen onto the ground. She stirred, and he held his breath until she sighed and settled back into sleep.

He needed a couple of hours to himself. As much as he loved his roommate, her company was far from conducive to silent contemplation, and he had a lot of unprecedented emotions to sort through. He fixed himself a cup of coffee and brought it and the poetry book to the living room table. For a good five minutes he did nothing but wait for his coffee to cool to a non-lethal temperature and stare down the book as if it were a poisonous snake which at any moment could rear out and strike him dead. He had brought the coffee to his lips, having finally worked up the courage to open the offending literature and begin to puzzle through what exactly had caused that man to make such an impression on him, when his phone rang. Every bone in his body told him not to pick up, but he recognized his brother's ringtone, and knew from past experience that ignoring a phone call from Gabriel Novak was a one-way ticket to a huge pain in the ass. So, he reluctantly placed the mug back on the table, and dug his cellphone out of his pocket, spilling receipts on the ground as he pulled it out.

"What do you want?"

"What kind of way is that to talk to your own brother?" Gabe simpered on the other end.

"You had better not be about to ask me to cover another shift."

"No, no, I'm not asking you to cover a shift, I'm just… I'm asking you to cover two?"

"No fucking way."

"Aw c'mon Cas, I'm in a jam. Kali was supposed to be working a double today, but she just bailed on me. We open in fourty-five, what do you want me to do?"

"I don't care what you do, but I'm not covering today."

"You gotta help me out."

"No, I really don't."

"Come on bro, she really screwed me over this time, please."

"Why does she even still work there? You broke up a year ago, I'm pretty sure she hates your guts."

"Well I can't exactly fire her."

"She is the most unreliable, unprofessional, and generally unpleasant person I have ever met; you absolutely could and should fire her."

"Ok sure, but I still like her, I don't want to be rude-"

"You're afraid of her."

" _Terrified_ , dude."

Cas sighed heavily, hardly believing what he was about to say. "... And there's nobody else who can cover?"

"Not a single person."

"Apologize for 'Super Virgin'."

"What?" Gabe's voice faltered.

"You're asking me for a big favor, apologize for starting that nickname. Meg won't let it go and I'm not covering for you again until you do."

"In my defense, it's hardly inaccurate."

"And I'm hanging up-"

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry! Will you be here?"

"I want time and a half."

"You're crazy."

"I'm broke with grad school loans. Time and a half or find someone on the street."

" _Fine_. Fine. Now, will you be here in a half-hour?"

Cas wanted to punch himself in the face, but he heard himself say yes. Gabe let out the most dramatic relieved sigh Castiel had ever heard.

"Thanks dude, you're the best!" he chirped, and the line went silent.

Cas could not believe he had let himself be talked into this again, but here he was. He got ready for work with a minimum of enthusiasm, showering and shaving as though still asleep. He didn't put an extreme amount of energy into his presentation on any day, and now, he hardly glanced at himself in the mirror as he combed his hair roughly into place and dressed in the first shirt and pair of jeans that his hands found in the drawer. He shoved the book of poems into his bag to bring back before Gabriel noticed its absence, gazing mournfully at the cup of coffee gone cold before he could take a sip. Resolving to make himself a fresh one as soon as he got to work, he left the house, hardly registering the drive before he had arrived.

He let himself in, the keys jingling the only sound in the closed shop. He was annoyed that he was there at all, but despite himself he couldn't help but relish the times when he was the only one in the shop. There was an odd sense of peace that he got when he was surrounded only by books and coffee, and he took a moment to sit in a window seat before he began to open the shop. He had gotten there faster than expected, so he still had a half an hour before he had to be up and running, and probably fifteen before his brother came barging through the door, so he indulged in some people-watching through the glass.

The morning was Cas's favorite time to people-watch. There was something special about watching as the town came alive, seeing men and women jogging, walking their dogs, rushing to work. Some were obviously still shaking the sleep out of their eyes, some were fresh-faced and seemingly bursting with excitement to face the day, and some were-

Oh, no.

 _Some_ were all-too familiar, impossibly good-looking, and heading straight towards the door of the cafe, seemingly oblivious to the fact that it was not actually open. Cas wanted to sprint and hide before he could be seen, but a flash of green and it was too late.

Dean's eyes met Cas's through the glass, and he smiled as he opened the unlocked door and stepped inside.

So much for a quiet, peaceful morning.


End file.
